


Flattery

by GoodJanet



Series: New Blood [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Drunk Sex, Hero Worship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 21:12:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5601148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodJanet/pseuds/GoodJanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Kink Meme Prompt:</b> When Han is drunk, he's totally into Poe. Poe knows it's not real, but he adores Han so much that he can't turn him down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flattery

Han Solo was famous for many things, namely his work in taking down the Death Star, talking his way into and out of mortal danger, and for holding the record for most years of service dedicated to smuggling goods out of enemy territory. But he was famous to Poe for an additional reason: his new penchant for getting completely drunk and wandering over to his barracks.

The first night it happens is a shock. Pilots and soldiers alike don’t get much sleep as it is, so just who thought it was okay to pound on his door in the middle of the night? When he opens the door in a tee shirt and his shorts, he certainly isn’t expecting to see Han Solo, the whole reason he was a sleep-deprived pilot in the first place.

“Captain?” he questions, voice still thick with sleep.

“Call me Han, kid,” he answers, leaning heavily against the doorframe. “Are you gonna let me in or what?”

Poe shakes off the shock and rouses himself to act, ushering Han inside and shutting the door.

“Is there something wrong? Does the General need me, sir?”

Han ignores the questions and moves right up into Poe’s personal space and rests his hands on Poe’s shoulders. And while this ranked high on the list of fantasies he’s had since he was a teenager, he doesn’t know how he feels about doing this while Han was drunk nor when he knew the General had been more than involved with Han in the past.

“Sir, I’m flattered, but—”

“Oh, shut up and kiss me,” Han demands before going ahead and doing it himself.

Poe thinks the kiss might have been better if Han wasn’t so boozy. The older man clings to him, half to hold himself up and half to have a reason to grab his ass. There’s tongue too, which surprises him. Still, it’s not the worst kiss, and anyway, it’s _Han Solo_. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was flattered.

Han pulls away and smirks. Poe isn’t sure if he finds it hot or adorable. Maybe both.

“I hear what they say about me around camp,” Han says, pushing Poe towards his cot with a hand that had snuck up his shirt. “How I’m the reason you fly.” Poe guesses his next line a second before he says. “I can make you fly, boy.”

Poe knows he would be lying if said hearing Han talk like that wasn’t turning him on, but deep down he knows he doesn’t mean what he’s saying. Han was twice his age and had twice as much piloting experience. Hell, they have only known each other for a few weeks, so Poe knows that this isn’t anything serious.

Poe plops down on his bed, and Han quickly crawls over him, smiling and kissing his face. Han was lonely, plain and simple. And Poe doesn't fault him for that. They all got lonely on this little base. Everyone was far from friends and family, and any time someone got close, it was because they needed something: shelter, warmth, protection, food, sex.

“Are you gonna take that shirt off or am I?” Han slurs.

 _It wouldn’t be right,_ Poe reasons, _to turn him away. Not when he needs me. Not when I can give him what he needs._

“I can help,” Poe says.

Han smiles again. It makes him look about ten years younger.

“Now that’s more like it. I hear you’re pretty good at this sort of thing too,” Han husks, hands slipping down into Poe’s shorts to find him hard. “Not my first time either.”

“Stop talking,” Poe says.

He says it, mostly because he doesn’t want to be reminded of how he’s just a body to Han. A willing body, a grateful body, but a body nonetheless. He doesn’t want to hear about how he reminds Han of a Jedi he once knew or a Princess he once loved. He doesn’t want to hear about sons and fathers lost to the dark side. For once, he wants to get fucked without hearing all the painful baggage that comes with it.

“Bossy,” Han says, and two fingers are suddenly shoved inside him.

Han must have had something with him to slick the way, but that didn’t make it hurt less. It feels like he’s doing a perfunctory job at best.

 _That’s fine,_ Poe tells himself as Han's mouth latches on to his neck. _He needs me._

Just as suddenly, Han pulls his fingers out and pushes himself halfway off the already too-small cot. Poe watches with curiosity as Han undoes his pants and pulls his cock out. Poe’s a little surprised that he's managed to get hard given how much his breath reeked, but that was okay too.

“Is this alright?” Han asks. It’s the first time he’s been asked that question tonight. But it’s nice to know that Han cares even this little bit.

“Yeah, it’s alright,” Poe answers. Han settles back down between his legs. “The great Han Solo, come to claim his prize.”

Han chuckles, and the noise sounds like gravel in his ears. A slow, rough sound that helps ground him when Han butts his cock up against his ass before jerkily shoving inside him. Poe swallows hard, listening to Han grunt and groan until he was finally all the way in. The rumors were true; he actually _was_  kind of big.

“You’re amazing, kid. You doing just fine, okay? Shhh…,” Han murmurs.

It helps. Even if all of this didn’t mean anything to the hero inside him, just hearing him make those soothing sounds helped.

But then Han starts moving, and it takes his breath away. Poe is no stranger to men and sleeping with men, but sex with Han is different. Even drunk and clumsy, it’s obvious that Han knows what he’s doing. That he’s done this before, and Poe cannot help but wonder who it was. Who was the lucky man (men?) who had the good fortune of experiencing this?

“’M close, kid.”

Poe wonders if Han even remembers his name or if “kid” is just a placeholder. He’ll have to start paying attention to how often he says it to other people.

Han lets out a long, low grunt, and Poe feels him twitch and spasm inside of him. Whatever arousal he initially felt when Han had walked in had diminished and disappeared over the course of their evening together. But that’s okay because Han got what he needed. Poe was able to give it to him.

When Han pulls away, he feels a truly unpleasant wetness, and suddenly, it’s difficult to not feel bothered by Han’s intrusion into his bunk and his body. The disgust must show on his face because Han apologetically grabs a rag from his jacket pocket and makes it his business to clean him up.

“You were great, kid,” Han rasps, zipping up his pants. “I owe you one; I mean it.”

Han points at him, and his hand wavers in front of him. Poe would laugh, but he knows Han means every word he’s saying. This was a kind of arrangement they were familiar with, apparently.

“Can you get home on your own?” Poe asks.

Han turns around at the door and rolls his eyes before stepping out.

“Goodnight, Han.”

Before Han closes the door behind him, he says, “Goodnight, Poe.”

Poe smiles in spite of himself.


End file.
